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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689978">Tempus Rerum Imperator</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonroses/pseuds/avalonroses'>avalonroses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Pottertalia, Time Travel, Time Turner (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:22:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonroses/pseuds/avalonroses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Kirkland hates Alfred F. Jones for reasons only time can explain.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>America/England (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Time is sovereign over all things’<br/>
– Latin Proverb</p><p>Professor Kirkland didn’t like Alfred F. Jones.  It was an undeniable fact, woven into the fabric of everyday life at Hogwarts.</p><p>No one could pinpoint why exactly. While Professor Kirkland was Head of Slytherin House and Alfred was your run-of-the-mill hot-blooded, hot-headed Gryffindor, Kirkland wasn’t one to associate himself with petty house prejudices. And, yes, Alfred was a demander of attention, loud and brash and bursting with proclamations of gagging American optimism but now that Hogwarts accepted international students from her sister school in Salem, the student body was riddled with the starry-eyed fantasists from across the pond and Kirkland didn’t seem nearly as slighted by them as he did Alfred. </p><p>The dislike was subtle enough not to fall into the category of a personal vendetta in the eyes of the other professors, it didn’t help that the man wasn’t the most pleasant of people to begin with, but it was obvious enough for Alfred’s year group to acknowledge it.</p><p>Herbology wasn’t Alfred’s favourite subject by a long-shot but he had to take it to be accepted on to the Auror Training programme. Regardless of his indifference to Professor Kirkland’s classes, Alfred was an overachiever in the subject and he knew it, his class knew it and Professor Kirkland knew it. That didn’t stop the Herbology teacher from being unnecessarily unforgiving and pedantic whenever he marked Alfred’s assignments or slated Alfred for the most menial wisp of a mistake or taking house points from Alfred for actively respiring or existing in his classroom.</p><p>Alfred’s friends had all offered him various excuses for the surly Professor’s behaviour. By his sixth year, the American couldn’t count on his fingers and toes how many times he’d heard the phrases: <em>‘you must have done something to him in a past life’ </em>or ‘<em>you must remind of someone he hates’. </em></p><p>As Alfred entered his seventh year and final year of Hogwarts education, he accepted that he would probably never understand why Professor Kirkland had gone out of his way to make Alfred’s school experience living hell, biting at the Gryffindor’s sanity like the ugly little doxy he was.</p><p>-/-</p><p>“Thank you, Professor,” Alfred said, cradling his gift in the crook of his palm and grinning brighter than the cool Scottish sunrise that was just visible from the arched windows in the Headmaster’s office. “I really appreciate this!”</p><p>Professor Wang didn’t smile but his face softened as he took another sip of his steaming, earthy-smelling tea. Opposite him, Alfred simmered in his excitement, inspecting the object in his hand the way a child regarded a present on Christmas morning.</p><p>“Alfred.”</p><p>The Headmaster set his small, porcelain teacup down and Alfred ceased his examination.</p><p>“You do understand that this is not a toy,” Professor Wang stated, his slow, lilting pronunciation of words reaffirming the air of infallible wisdom he always carried with him.</p><p>The Chinese-born man rose to his feet, his oriental robes as gaudily-coloured as usual. Today was an ensemble of mossy-green fabric and erratic gold piping. He walked around his desk and perched himself at the end of it, by Alfred. “I am putting a great deal of trust in you, presenting you with this. Time is fickle and quite beyond our mortal comprehension but I feel you are sensible enough to know not to misuse a time-turner.”</p><p>Alfred nodded eagerly. “Of course, sir.”</p><p>“I understand you aspire to be an Auror?” Another nod. “I have no doubt you can achieve this, Alfred, you have proved yourself to be more than capable.” The Gryffindor preened under the praise. “The time-turner should make things easier with the extra lessons you are taking. There are rules, of course, that you <em>must </em>follow.</p><p>“The time-turner is to be used for academic purposes only and cannot be used in excess. You cannot go back more than five hours or use it more than once a day. Under no circumstances can it leave the school grounds, it will be left with me during school holidays and kept in a secure place in your dorm if you visit Hogsmeade or elsewhere. You must not tell anyone else you are in possession of a time-turner, not even your professors.”</p><p>“No problem, Professor.”</p><p>“Finally,” the Headmaster continued, voice glinting with steel. “If anything out of the ordinary occurs, you must come straight to me, Alfred. If you have any concerns whatsoever, it is vital you tell me and me only. If you’re in serious trouble, and I distrust you for whatever reason, you must tell me this: I was born in a village called Cuandixia. Very few people know this about me which is why I’ll know I can trust you if you have this information, do you understand?”</p><p>“I understand, sir.” Alfred observed Professor Wang, the seriousness of his expression and the dark whisper of mystery in his eyes sent a spike of unease down Alfred’s spine. “Just out of curiosity…” The Headmaster, seemingly expectant of Alfred’s question, raised an eyebrow. “What would happen that was out of the ordinary? Mattie told me that time-turners are monitored by the Ministry and they’re charmed so you can’t tamper with them. Nothing can go wrong… can it?”</p><p>“<em>Wrong, </em>no. Unexpected, perhaps.”</p><p>The Headmaster was deliberately being cryptic and Alfred didn’t know what to make of that. Why give him the time-turner if he was implying Alfred was going to mess up with it?</p><p>“I don’t –” </p><p>“Now, away you go. You have lots of work to be getting on with.”</p><p>Professor Wang moved back behind his desk and sat down, the sheer volume of his robes swathing the arms of the chair. He took a powdered almond biscuit from a silver tray and dipped a quill in ink with his other hand, effectively dismissing Alfred from the room.</p><p>“Thanks again, Professor!” the Gryffindor called as he left, barrelling down the spiral staircase with the time-turner bouncing against his chest.</p><p>-/-</p><p>September surged into October and into November until December hit, leaving most of the students frazzled at how quickly the year was moving.</p><p>Alfred wouldn’t deny he had a tendency, <em>sometimes, </em>to be boastful. Otherwise, people would overlook some of the awesome stuff he did and therefore defeat the purpose of Alfred doing the awesome stuff, thus, now and then; he’d give them a friendly reminder.</p><p>He wasn’t being boastful in saying that he had used the time-turner for the past few months without hiccup. Nothing mysterious had happened and he’d staunchly followed the plethora of rules enforced by the Headmaster, for the most part anyway. He might have blurred the lines somewhat when he missed lunch or breakfast but Alfred didn’t consider this a violation of the rules, he wouldn’t be learning at optimum capacity on an empty stomach and a growing boy’s got to eat.</p><p>He may have also, in a flurry of excitement, showed his brother the tiny golden hourglass but Alfred knew Mattie wouldn’t tell a soul so it didn’t really count.</p><p>“I’ll see you in a bit. Save me a seat at lunch.”</p><p>“Where are you going?” Gilbert enquired. “Have you got a secret girlfriend? It better not be Elizaveta!”</p><p>“What?! Dude, no, of course not. I wouldn’t go out with Elizaveta, what kind of friend do you think I am? Besides, she likes you. You’re just too chicken to ask her out.”</p><p>“Am not, loser!” the albino yelled after him. Alfred chuckled and wandered into an empty corridor.</p><p>When he was positive there was no one else lurking about, he pulled the chain around his neck and brought the time-turner out from underneath his shirt.</p><p>He revolved the panel the hourglass was situated on three times, watching the pale sand turn over in the glass container. Students and professors smudged past him, their actions reversed in haste, until he was three hours into the past and three minutes late for Herbology.</p><p>“Damnit.”</p><p>When he reached the greenhouses, he could hear Professor Kirkland delivering instructions with that crisp, no-nonsense accent of his. He was surely the very crux of what it was to be an Englishman, frosty and unpredictable just like their stupid weather. Alfred waited outside for a moment to even out his breathing then slowly pushed the door ajar and squeezed himself into the balmy greenhouse, trying to insert him amongst the students without being noticed.</p><p>Of course, he was noticed.</p><p>“Ten points from Gryffindor for Mr. Jones’ tardiness,” Professor Kirkland snapped, shearing a leaf off a deceivingly innocent-looking Venomous Tentacula.</p><p>None of Alfred’s fellow Gryffindors even let out a groan at the loss of points; everyone was more than accustomed to it.</p><p>“And a further five points to be taken for your lack of apology.”</p><p>The Head of Slytherin finally looked at Alfred, his eyes as poisonous as the deadly plant he was effortlessly (Alfred had to admit, begrudgingly) handling.</p><p>“If you’re not serious about this class, Mr. Jones, I won’t hesitate to have it removed from your curriculum.”</p><p>“I am serious about this class, sir, I’m sorry I was late,” Alfred replied, falsifying as much sincerity as he could muster.</p><p>Professor Kirkland glowered at him, fierce and brimming with a sort of animosity that glaciated Alfred’s core. It was that look in particular that Alfred couldn’t comprehend, it was fuelled by an incredible amount of emotion – emotion Alfred was sure he hadn’t incited.</p><p>What had he ever done to Professor Kirkland?</p><p>He was the first to leave, barging himself through the door like a mentally unhinged man on day release from an asylum. He couldn’t get away fast enough. A friend shouted his name but he was long gone before he could figure out who it was.</p><p>Despite how familiar and hardened he was to Professor Kirkland’s behaviour, Alfred always felt off kilter after his classes and he found the best way to regain his equilibrium was to clear his head outside. It was lunch now so he had plenty of time to waste.</p><p>He walked unconsciously in the direction of one of the Quidditch training pitches, it was the one he visited the most often because it was usually devoid of people. It was easy to shed his worries when he was this far away from the school and all he wished to think about was how cool it was going to be when he finally made it as an Auror. Maybe he could dig up some dirt of Professor Kirkland and throw him in Azkaban himself. Alfred sniggered, feeling lighter already.</p><p>That was until he heard Gilbert’s voice and, starting at the sound; he stumbled over a cluster of rocks and went hurtling towards the ground. There was a stabbing pain in both his knees and he had a mouthful of grass but, worst of all, something had cracked and he didn’t think it was any of his bones.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…up, you prat.”</p>
<p>Something firm nudged his side. Alfred got the feeling that the something was a foot.</p>
<p>“Are you listening to me? Get up. What sort of idiot takes naps on a Quidditch pitch in the middle of the day?!”</p>
<p>Alfred opened his eyes only to be greeted by utter darkness. For a second, he thought he been blinded and panic scrambled his brain until he rolled over and his sight was swallowed by the translucent grey sky above him. He’d never been so happy to see that miserable British sky.</p>
<p>He was shivering with the cold, the corners of his glasses had bit into the skin above his eyes and there was a persistent person kicking him.</p>
<p>“Wha–?” was all he managed to say.</p>
<p>“Well? Are you going to move? Or would you rather be concussed by the Quaffle?”</p>
<p>“Quaffle? Like a waffle?”</p>
<p>The person peering down at him, hands at his hips, was rendered speechless at Alfred’s response. His eyes scanned over Alfred and his (crazy massive) eyebrows scrunched when they landed on Alfred’s legs.</p>
<p>“You’re bleeding,” the stranger pointed out.</p>
<p>“Woah. Am I going to die?”</p>
<p>The stranger knelt to Alfred’s level and into a ray of pallid sunlight that illuminated his face.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Professor Kirkland?!” </em>
</p>
<p>Alfred sat up so quickly he sent himself into a state of sickly vertigo and had to flop back on to the thistly grass, his stomach squirming with protest.</p>
<p>“The bloody hell are you doing?!”</p>
<p>There was no mistaking it, the boy crouched beside him was undoubtedly his Herbology teacher. But that was impossible. Unless he had used an aging charm on himself for some unknown reason. That must be it, that <em>had </em>to be it, Alfred couldn’t think of any other explanation. Professor Kirkland was a weird guy; he’d do weird stuff like that, right?</p>
<p>“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was you, Professor.”</p>
<p>“Do I look like a Professor to you?” the Professor said, gesturing to himself. The skin at the bridge of his nose creased in puzzlement and impatience.</p>
<p>At this age, the answer was no, he didn’t look like a Professor. Seeing his teacher like this, Alfred guessed he could be no older than himself, was disorientating and plain bizarre. Teachers were inhuman beings, as far as students were concerned, people who ceased to exist outside of their classrooms and they certainly didn’t have normal experiences such as childhoods.</p>
<p>Professor Kirkland didn’t appear all that different as a teenager. There were less crinkles around his eyes and forehead and there was something distinctly different about his presence. It took Alfred a minute to put his finger on it but he realised that his teacher didn’t hold the same gravitas at this age; he didn’t have that unapproachable quality that scared the pants off a lot of students. His eyes, the same diamond-clear green, were animated and readable.</p>
<p>Taking in the fluffy, wheat-blond hair, the lily-pale lips and constellation of freckles on his pixie-like nose and across his high cheekbones, an alarming thought about his teacher invaded Alfred’s mind.</p>
<p>
  <em>He’s… pretty.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>WHAT– NO–!</em>
</p>
<p>Alfred almost bolted into an upright position again. A hand pressed on his chest and pushed him down before he could move.</p>
<p>“Idiotic Gryffindors. Stay still.” With that, Alfred was left alone, his head reeling so fast he worried he might be giving himself brain damage.</p>
<p>
  <em>What’s happening?</em>
</p>
<p>Professor Kirkland reappeared in his eye-line and he was accompanied by someone else. Alfred was too queasy to keep up with their conversation but he heard slivers of it, namely that he was going to be taken to the infirmary by Professor Kirkland. He was propelled on to his feet and his arm was wrapped around Kirkland’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“Make sure you come straight back, Arthur.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Why did Professor Kirkland call that man ‘sir’?</em>
</p>
<p>“A little help would be nice,” Kirkland ground out. “You’re bloody heavy.”</p>
<p>Alfred picked up his feet and as he did so, something rattled against his chest.</p>
<p>Everything made sense.</p>
<p>“What year is it?”</p>
<p>“You must be joking, you’re not that badly concussed.”</p>
<p>“Seriously, what year is it?” Alfred spluttered, tongue-tied with urgency.</p>
<p>Kirkland paused. “2006. 1<sup>st</sup> December 2006.”</p>
<p>Alfred’s heart upturned and he wheezed, his eyes going wide and unseeing.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nine years? He’d travelled back nine whole years?! </em>
</p>
<p> “Oh my god. Oh my holy fucking shit on a stick.”</p>
<p>“I’m assuming that wasn’t the answer you were looking for?”</p>
<p>If Professor Kirkland showing concern in connection to his least favourite student wasn’t a testament to the world having gone topsy-turvy, Alfred didn’t know what was.</p>
<p>“Who’s the headmaster?”</p>
<p>“Professor Wang, of course. Surely you know that? I don’t see how–”</p>
<p>“I need to see him, please.” Alfred stopped and turned to his teacher. “It’s really important that I see him, <em>please. </em>Tell him I know he was born in a village called Cuandixia. He’ll understand, I promise.<em>”</em></p>
<p>He really hoped he’d pronounced that right.</p>
<p>Professor Kirkland blinked at Alfred, his lips parted with astonishment. “You’re in no shape to reach his office. How about I take you to the infirmary and I’ll see if Professor Wang can visit you? I’ll tell him it’s a matter of urgency, if you want?”</p>
<p>Alfred’s first instinct was to reject the idea but the sharp sting in his legs quietened those instincts. He found himself nodding. “Yeah, okay, that sounds like a good idea.” He surprised himself with the next thing that fell out of his mouth. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome. I don’t know what on earth has happened to you but I have a feeling you were experimenting with magic you shouldn’t have been. Perhaps this will teach you a lesson,” Kirkland said with the accusing tone he had often used on Alfred as a teacher. To Alfred’s amusement, it wasn’t nearly as intimidating on a teenage boy.</p>
<p>He laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”</p>
<p>Kirkland huffed at his cheekiness but, to Alfred’s utter amazement, there was a hint of a smile ghosting at the corner of his lips.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Alfred said, noting the rough fabric of the Quidditch uniform his Professor was wearing. “You were a Seeker?”</p>
<p>“I <em>am </em>a Seeker.”</p>
<p>“I never knew that.”</p>
<p>Kirkland looked at Alfred strangely. “Of course you never knew that, we’ve only just met. Which in itself is very odd; you must be a new student. What year are you in?”</p>
<p>Alfred mentally kicked himself for his faux pas and passed it off with an easy grin. “Yeah, sorry, I am a new student. And I’m a seventh year.” <em>Do I tell him my real name…? </em>“Alfred F. Jones at your service. Nice to meet ya.” <em>Too late.</em></p>
<p>“Arthur Kirkland, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>They reached the infirmary before Alfred had to answer, thankfully, and the school nurse was bustling about him in no time. He was mummified in a squeaky, metal-frame bed, mellowed out on a cocktail of healing potions, when Professor Wang billowed in, his purple robes gliding around him. Kirkland flitted in after him with an air of awkwardness, of all things.</p>
<p>
  <em>This is one weird day.</em>
</p>
<p>“Mr. Kirkland, I think it’s time for you to get back to your lesson,” the Headmaster instructed.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>Alfred watched his sort-of-Professor left and, feeling a swell of gratefulness, he shouted, “Thank you!” The Slytherin jumped and swerved around to face Alfred. He graced Alfred with another nearly-smile.</p>
<p>“You certainly are a mystery, Mr. Jones. I don’t share personal information carelessly yet it seems that you, and now Mr. Kirkland, know the name of my birthplace.”</p>
<p>Heat bloomed in Alfred’s cheeks. He hadn’t stopped to consider that he wasn’t at liberty to share that information with Kirkland. “Oops, sorry about that.”</p>
<p>“Not to worry. Nevertheless, I do need you to answer my question, Mr. Jones.”</p>
<p>“Right, yeah, um, you told me where you were born.”</p>
<p>“Did I?” He arched a thin, black eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Well, I should have said you’ll <em>tell </em>me. In nine years’ time.”</p>
<p>“I fear I already know what you’re going to say but how is it you know this almost a decade in advance?”</p>
<p>Professor Wang’s eyes followed Alfred’s motions as he dipped a hand underneath his shirt and pulled out the broken time-turner. His face didn’t react and Alfred didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad sign.</p>
<p>“Have you told anyone else that you have travelled?” he queried, as calm as an unbroken surface of water.</p>
<p>“No, you told me to come straight to you if I was ever in trouble. No one else knows.”</p>
<p>The Headmaster nodded and pressed his lips together. He made no move to speak again and as the silence stretched on, something began to bud inside Alfred, something that, throughout the chaos, he hadn’t taken into account before.</p>
<p>
  <em>How was he going to get back?</em>
</p>
<p>“Sir,” Alfred croaked, throat dry. “Am I stuck here?”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I don’t know.” Alfred didn’t think his stomach could take much more of this turbulence. “However, you are no longer in your own timeframe which means you are an inconsistency. There is an underlying logic in the disorder of time and that logic will certainly strive to correct inconsistencies.”</p>
<p>Alfred had no idea what to say to that but the thought of ‘being corrected’ didn’t sit well with him.</p>
<p>“For now, it is best not to worry. You are here and there’s not a great deal we can do at this point. I am assuming you are in your final year at Hogwarts?” Alfred nodded. “I will enroll you into the school as a new student, assign you a dorm in Gryffindor and have a new uniform and supplies arranged for you. It seems you have warmed to Mr. Kirkland so, for the time being, you will follow his timetable. He has an aptitude for Herbology, I am told he is very talented.”</p>
<p>Alfred’s gears grinded to a halt internally. Kirkland had been helpful, sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted to share every waking moment with the guy. Younger or not, he was still Alfred’s nasty Herbology teacher.</p>
<p>“But, sir–”</p>
<p>“Before you continue, Mr. Jones,” the Ravenclaw interjected. “I must caution you that it would be dangerous to reveal anything you know from the future.”</p>
<p>“It’s just… Professor K– um, <em>Arthur….” </em>Alfred grimaced. It was creepy to call a teacher by their first name, especially Professor Kirkland but he didn’t exactly have a choice. “He’s in <em>my </em>future and I wouldn’t want to compromise his future or mine.”</p>
<p>“You have already told him your name,” Professor Wang stated. “As long as you don’t reveal any more incriminating information, neither of your futures should be compromised. Now, if I could take this…” His willowy fingers reached for the time-turner. Alfred handed it to him. “Thank you. I’ll keep you updated as frequently as possible. You’ve had an eventful day; I don’t think some rest would go amiss.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Alfred agreed sleepily, as if the Headmaster’s observation had cast sleeping enchantment over him. He was out cold before Professor Wang had even left.</p>
<p>-/-</p>
<p>Alfred woke up confused. His limbs were heavy and sluggish, like he’d slept for hours and hours. He remembered what had happened but it all seemed so far away in the light of a new day. His memories were distorted by exhaustion and fear and he hoped beyond hope that it had all been a nightmare, a nightmare he could turn into kick-ass thriller fiction.</p>
<p>The pair of green eyes pretending not to watch him, however, obliterated Alfred’s prospects of becoming filthy rich from time-travel blockbusters in the wizarding world.</p>
<p>It hadn’t been a nightmare.</p>
<p>“How long have you been there?” Alfred asked, his voice roughened with sleep.</p>
<p>“Not very long, you can be sure of that,” the Slytherin retorted, as defensive as a wild rabbit facing a predator. The smaller boy’s cheeks had pinked.</p>
<p>“What time is it?”</p>
<p>“Lunchtime. The Headmaster asked me to check in on you and see if you felt up to having lunch in the great hall.” Kirkland refused to meet Alfred’s eyes and focused on plucking at the arm of the chair he was sat on instead.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m up for that. Man, I’m starving!” Alfred shimmied out the cocoon of starchy blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He was in a paper-thin nightgown.</p>
<p>“Here.” Kirkland rose to his feet, offering Alfred a pile of neatly folded school robes and essentials that had been resting on his lap. “I’ll pull the curtain.”</p>
<p>“Nah, it's fine. I’m not shy and we’re both guys.” The Gryffindor untangled himself from the nightwear then reached for the waistband of his boxers.</p>
<p>“No, stop!” It wasn’t a shout, it was a squawk. The shorter boy was glowing brilliant red and covering his face with his hands. “It’s undignified, someone could… someone could walk in.” He peeked between his fingers and zipped the curtain in front of Alfred, muttering something about Gryffindor shamelessness.</p>
<p>Alfred’s lips tugged at the corners, thoroughly amused by Professor Kirkland’s apparent prudishness. It wasn’t unexpected, he’d just never thought about it.</p>
<p>“Okay, okay,” Alfred chuckled.</p>
<p>He was wriggling into his trousers when a timid question reached his ears.</p>
<p>“Are you American or Canadian?”</p>
<p>“Whatcha think?”</p>
<p>There was a snort followed by a grumbled, “Bloody arrogant American.”</p>
<p>“Guilty as charged, redcoat!”</p>
<p>He could practically feel the frown. “That’s Muggle slang. Are you… Muggleborn?”</p>
<p>Alfred’s straightened his back, heckles flaring as he stepped into dangerous territory where a Syltherin was concerned. “And what if I was?”</p>
<p>There was a long pause, too long, and disappointment frothed inside Alfred.</p>
<p>“Then we’d have something in common.”</p>
<p>That stopped him in his tracks and he jerked the curtain aside. Kirkland was standing tall, stiff, not unlike Alfred moments ago, challenging those who opposed him for a battle he must have fought many times before.</p>
<p>“You’re Muggleborn?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” The single word was veined with ice, <em>daring </em>Alfred to speak against him.</p>
<p>Alfred raised his hands. “Good for you,” he said sincerely. “Wow, I never even thought… there aren’t many Muggleborn Slytherins. That must be tough.”</p>
<p>He was eyed suspiciously, scrutinised for any falsehoods, until Kirkland realised Alfred wasn’t picking a fight and he visibly unwound.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Slytherin boy said, tactically avoiding besmirching his House’s reputation. Very Slytherin of him.</p>
<p>“I’m Pureblood, actually, but I love Muggles!” Alfred announced with enthusiasm. “They have so many cool things like these touch-screen phones and machines that you can heat your food in and loads of awesome movies and TV shows like Captain America and Doctor Who. I kind of always wanted to be Muggleborn because you get to see both worlds, must be pretty amazing.”</p>
<p>He could tell he robbed Kirkland’s ability of speech once more because the boy was looking at Alfred like he’d grown a Hippogriff head.</p>
<p>“Microwaves,” the smaller boy said quietly.</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“The machines that heat your food in, they’re called microwaves.”</p>
<p>“Hey, thanks! I’ll remember that.”</p>
<p>Alfred slipped his shoes on and walked with Kirkland out of the infirmary. He didn’t hear a peep out of his old Professor for a long time and Alfred fretted that he’d actually offended him.</p>
<p>“Who’s your favourite doctor?”</p>
<p>Of all the crazy scenarios Alfred had imagined himself, and there had been a lot, he wasn’t renowned for his impressive imagination for nothing, Alfred had never, <em>never, </em>envisioned himself being dislocated in time, sitting at the Slytherin table, arguing with a younger version of his most hated Professor about who the best Doctor is.</p>
<p>Time really was a fickle thing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. III</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As time was wont to do, it passed quickly. Leapt, almost, into one week then two weeks.</p><p>When the third week eclipsed, the Christmas holidays were upon them. Alfred had learnt a lot about Arthur, a lot more than he had intended to learn.</p><p>Arthur wasn’t malicious as a teenager, not like his adult self. The American wondered what had changed, what had occurred in Arthur’s life that had driven him to retreat into the cold, barbed husk he resided in as Alfred’s professor.</p><p>As a teenager, he was a fighter; Alfred thought he resembled a gentle housecat that was capable of scrapping like a hissing alley cat once provoked. He had a wicked sense of humour and he was blushed a lot and easily. He was unexpectedly shy, especially around Alfred sometimes. He adored British television and literature, specifically that romantic period mush. He had four older brothers, none of whom were magical and didn’t appreciate Arthur’s magical blood. His parents were loving but ignorant. He had a familiar, a Scottish Fold called Cheshire after his home county and Cheshire was his only friend before Alfred.</p><p>Because Alfred <em>was </em>Arthur’s friend, somehow. They spent almost every day with each other and Alfred had grown surprisingly, precariously, attached.</p><p>He visited Professor Wang regularly and there had been no progress as to how to fix this little problem thus far, which, after three weeks, was disheartening to say the least.</p><p>In the midst of the familiar professors, familiar surroundings and… Arthur, Alfred often found that he had to remind himself he was an intruder to this time. He missed his family, his friends and the normality of his own timeline. In spite of this, there was a slowly expanding gnawing in his mind that wondered how he would cope without Arthur, the Arthur that he had become best friends with.</p><p>Could he really go back to loathing sour Professor Kirkland when he knew the man slept with a stuffed mint-green rabbit and religiously, <em>voluntarily, </em>read Shakespearian sonnets? <em>And understood them. </em></p><p>“Squeeze the stem, the leaf will come away easier that way.”</p><p>Arthur set down his sheers and showed Alfred the appropriate way to extract the leaf. True to his words, the leaf popped off the plant with ease.</p><p>“You’re such a smartie pants, Artie. Smartie Artie.”</p><p>Alfred grunted through laughter when Arthur elbowed him in the side.</p><p>“If that’s the thanks I get for helping…”</p><p>Feeling mischievous, Alfred reached towards Arthur, who was holding a pair of magically enhanced tweezers above a delicate leaf with unshaking concentration, and tickled him without a smidgen of mercy. Arthur dropped the tweezers and swiped at Alfred, laughing uncontrollably all the while which made Alfred laugh uncontrollably in return and this went on until they were reprimanded by the arthritic Herbology professor.</p><p>Alfred let out another peel of laughter at the noxious glare he received from Arthur.</p><p>“Whoops, my hands slipped,” the Gryffindor said into the smaller boy’s ear. Arthur went scarlet all over; he had a tendency to do that whenever Alfred got close, and he shoved Alfred.</p><p>“Wanker.”</p><p>“Only as much as you do,” Alfred teased.</p><p>Arthur’s skin burned plum now and he turned to Alfred, his lips a perfect ‘o’. “Alfred!” he hissed. “I cannot believe you just said that. You have absolutely no awareness of social boundaries. Besides, you don’t know how often I… well<em>.” </em></p><p>This had to be the most flustered he had ever seen Arthur and that was saying something.</p><p>“Unless you think about that sort of thing,” Arthur tacked on.</p><p>“You’re a great guy, Artie, but I don’t think about you doing <em>that, </em>sorry,” Alfred said, smirking.</p><p>Arthur only nodded, busying himself with thrilling leaf extraction.</p><p>“I mean, you don’t think about me doing that… do you?” It had just fallen out of his mouth; Alfred was clueless as to why he’d said something so weird and he regretted it the moment he’d blurted it out.</p><p>Arthur’s eyes went wide and frenzied. “Wha-what? No, of course I don’t –”</p><p>As he stammered, he jolted away from Alfred and the movement knocked the precious plant off the ledge. The shatter of the plant pot sent the entire class into silence and Arthur looked close to tears.</p><p>-/-</p><p>“Where’s your boyfriend, Kirkland?”</p><p>“Have you told him you want to have his babies yet?”</p><p>“Wand-feeler!”</p><p>Alfred squared up to the three Slytherins, fingers curling, ready to land a solid punch, and his body taut with adrenaline.</p><p>“You got anything else to say?” he demanded.</p><p>Their eyes ducked to the floor and they shuffled back from Alfred who was a head taller than all of the idiots.</p><p>“Didn’t think so.” They scurried away without any more prompting and Alfred joined Arthur.</p><p>“Don’t listen to those jerks, Artie; some of the guys in your house are real dicks.”</p><p>“I don’t need you to fight for me. I can stand up for myself and I managed just fine before you showed up. When you threaten them like that, it only encourages them for the next time I’m alone,” Arthur argued, stomping away from Alfred.</p><p>They’d had this argument before.</p><p>“I know, I’m sorry.” Alfred caught up with the Slytherin and took hold of his arm. “I know you can stand up for yourself, believe me, I just lose it when they start acting like that.”</p><p>Arthur sighed, his body deflating, and he rubbed his eyes. “I know, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m always a little high-strung before Christmas; everything’s such a bloody headache with my family.”</p><p><em>“</em>Yeah, a <em>little </em>high-strung,<em>” </em>Alfred joked.</p><p>“Shut it.”</p><p>They walked in amiable silence until they reached an empty corridor and Arthur swivelled on his heel in front of Alfred, effectively stopping the American.</p><p>“Arthur?”</p><p>They were in close proximity to each other and Alfred could almost <em>feel </em>Arthur’s pounding rabbit-pulse under his skin. He wasn’t meeting Alfred’s eyes – a sure indicator he was nervous.</p><p>“Is everything okay?”</p><p>“I need to talk to you about something,” he said, voice small.</p><p>“Shoot.”</p><p>“Alfred, I –” his breath spluttered out of his mouth.</p><p>“You’re freaking me out, Artie, what’s wrong?” Ever so softly, Alfred took Arthur’s chin in his hand and raised his head so Alfred could see his eyes, the irises absorbing any available light like a fireflies to a flame.</p><p>“What do you think you are to me?”</p><p>He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that. Alfred considered the Slytherin’s question, turning it over in his head. “I’m your friend. We’re friends, close friends, right?”</p><p>“Yes, and no.”</p><p>“No? We’re not friends?”</p><p>“I don’t like girls, Alfred.”</p><p>Alfred’s blank stare steered Arthur onwards but the penny was already dropping and Alfred didn’t know what to do.</p><p>“I like boys. I like you.” Arthur stammered, exhaling the weight of that which he had left unsaid for so long. “I more than like you but I can’t say – I don’t want to… not when I don’t know if you…”</p><p>“Hey.” Alfred smoothed his thumbs over the supple skin of Arthur’s chin, drawing figures of eight. “Damn!”</p><p>“What?” Arthur asked, his tenor sharp with horror.</p><p>“I forgot, I’m late for a meeting with the Headmaster. Damn damn!”</p><p>It was cruel of him to leave Arthur hanging like this, with his heart dangling in front of Alfred, suspended on an unravelling piece of string, but Alfred couldn’t skip the meeting.</p><p>“I’m going to have to go, I’m so sorry, Arthur, I am. Please don’t think that I’m running away – I’m not. I’m shocked and I don’t really know what to say yet but I’m not gonna leave it like this. Wait here for me, okay? Promise me.”</p><p>A film of melancholy clouded Arthur’s face but he agreed nonetheless. “Alright.”</p><p>“No, say ‘I promise’, please.”</p><p>“…I promise.”</p><p>“I’ll be back as soon as I can! Don’t move!”</p><p>Alfred broke into a sprint, determined to return to Arthur as soon as humanly possible. He erupted into Professor Wang’s office, nearly taking the door clean off its hinges.</p><p>“Hello Alfred,” the Headmaster greeted with his typical atmosphere of serenity. </p><p>“Hey Professor,” he panted, not bothering to sit down. “Anything new?”</p><p>“It’s fixed.”</p><p>Alfred sat down. “…seriously?”</p><p>“How many jokes have I made since you’ve known me?”</p><p>“Uh, one, I think? I still don’t get it and I don’t know if it was actually a joke.”</p><p>The Professor rolled his eyes, humoured. “As you can see, it is fixed.” He passed the time-turner to Alfred. “Unfortunately, it is only the physical appearance that has changed. Whether the object holds its original magic remains to be seen.”</p><p>“How do we find out?”</p><p>“That’s up to you, Alfred. In this instance, you are the time-turner’s master and only you can use its magic.”</p><p>Alfred swallowed, his insides going dizzy. He should be ecstatic; he should be jumping for joy. He could finally return to his own time and see his family and friends again. It had been so long since he’d talked to Mattie or Gilbert or Elizaveta or his parents. He could go back and complete his Auror training. Find a nice girl to marry.</p><p>He was glad that the time-turner was potentially working again; in fact, his body had filled with relief. This small trinket was, in essence, the key to his home, his world.</p><p>But Arthur.</p><p>Arthur was waiting in that hallway, <em>for Alfred</em>, with his heart in his hands.</p><p>Alfred hadn’t realised how much he felt for Arthur until he’d made contact with the time-turner. He didn’t know if he thought of Arthur <em>that way</em>, Alfred hadn’t even fathomed it. He liked girls; he had always liked girls and that was the way it was. Yet, if he liked girls so much, why was he so anxious to discover what it would be like to kiss Arthur, to touch his skin, to hold his hand…</p><p>Arthur, with his soft-burning beauty and intricate warmth, much like an everlasting sunset.</p><p>“Do you think it’ll work?”</p><p>“Honestly…” The pause was heavy, poignant. “No. I cannot sense a magical signature on the time-turner any more. What you have in your hand  is simply a necklace.”</p><p>Alfred regarded it, the dainty metal cupped in his palm, seemingly powerless. Almost definitely powerless in Professor Wang’s opinion. Alfred didn’t think it would work either. A nine year jump is an anomaly, a blip in the universe, and that meant there was a fault. Alfred’s journey could also be the time-turner’s last journey.</p><p>
  <em>Arthur… </em>
</p><p>It wouldn’t work. He had to confirm it.</p><p>Alfred unthinkingly turned it once, twice, three times. His breath snagged, his muscles seized.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Professor Wang sat across from him, his fingers formed in a steeple against his cheek, with an unreadable expression. He hummed.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Alfred, I really am. Time is–”</p><p>“Fickle?”</p><p>Professor Wang indulged him with a sorrowful smile. “Yes. Perhaps meddling with it was never a particularly clever idea.”</p><p>Alfred slipped the chain over his head. “I know we have a lot to talk about but there’s somewhere really important I have to be. I’ll come back here as soon as I can.”</p><p>“Very well.”</p><p>“Thanks, sir.”</p><p>Alfred was almost out of the door when Professor Wang spoke again.</p><p>“Alfred.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Despite what some might say, it would be foolish to think time heals all wounds, in some cases it only serves to worsen them. That isn’t to say, though, that those wounds can’t be healed by other means.”</p><p>
  <em>You really like your mysterious final words, don’t you, Professor Wang?</em>
</p><p>“Thanks, Professor.”</p><p>Alfred ran. He still didn’t know he would say but he knew the words would come to him once he was face to face with Arthur. At the very least, he would let Arthur know he reciprocated his feelings, even if it was unfamiliar territory for Alfred. </p><p>Alfred ran and ran and his footfalls seemed to become lighter, useless, with each step he took until he couldn’t hear the beat of the soles of his shoes against the stone floors. The air went thin and vertigo slammed into him.</p><p>He reached the corridor, his balance unsteady.</p><p>Arthur wasn’t there.</p><p>He could hear whispers floating up from one of the alcoves and as he drew closer, he started at the faces he knew well and hadn’t seen for three weeks.</p><p>“Gilbert? Elizaveta?”</p><p>“Alfred! Hey bud, where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since our DADA class. Guess what?” Gilbert said, shimmering with pride. “Elizaveta’s my girl now! How awesome is that! Who’s chicken now? Al… are you okay?”</p><p>“Alfred? You’ve gone really pale,” Elizaveta observed.</p><p>“I’ve gotta go,” he breathed, turning away and sprinting desperately.</p><p>
  <em>No, no, no, no, no, no, no!</em>
</p><p>“No, god, Arthur, I’m so sorry…”</p><p>Alfred raced through the school, stumbling upstairs and colliding into various students, frantically hunting Arthur.</p><p>Arthur, the boy he had left hanging for <em>nine years. </em></p><p>Everything made sense.</p><p>Everything made lucid sense and Alfred’s nervous system flooded with guilt and terror. Arthur – Professor Kirkland – had hated all this time because Alfred had never come back that day before the Christmas holidays. Because Alfred F. Jones had rejected him at his most vulnerable.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to. The time-turner wasn’t supposed to have worked. It wasn’t <em>fair</em>.</p><p>Alfred found Arthur in a congested hallway, depleting points from a snogging couple of Hufflepuffs.</p><p>Alfred’s heart tightened at the sight of him. He was lovely and bitter and he couldn’t stand the sight of the boy that had cut the piece of string his heart had been offered on.</p><p>“Arthur!”</p><p>He had Arthur’s attention instantly, as well as all the students surrounding him.</p><p>“Ten points from Gryffindor for addressing a Professor inappropriately, Mr. Jones.”</p><p>“Arthur, please –”</p><p>“That’s ten more points.”</p><p>“I don’t care about points, please just listen–”</p><p>“Detention, Mr. Jones!” Arthur seethed, glaring into Alfred’s eyes with the white-hot resentment Alfred finally understood.</p><p>“Artie,” he implored.</p><p>“Don’t you dare call me that!” Arthur’s voice cracked and his eyes glazed.</p><p>Alfred collected all of his strength, gripped Arthur’s forearm and led him away from the dumbstruck students. He hurried towards the closest vacant room. Arthur struggled, thrashing around and demanding for Alfred to unhand him, he was that defensive wild rabbit again, entrapped by Alfred. The Gryffindor remained steadfast until he had dragged them into an undisturbed courtyard.</p><p>“<em>How dare you!” </em></p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I want nothing to do with you; I don’t care what you have to say!”</p><p>It hurt, hot and cutting, to hear Arthur say that, it knocked the air out of him and he felt disorientated with the turmoil of emotional pain.</p><p>He hadn’t thought about the possibility of Arthur <em>rejecting </em>him.</p><p>“I had every intention of coming back –”</p><p>“No, you didn’t,” Arthur cut in, low and dangerous. “No you did not. You turned the time-turner in the Headmaster’s office. Don’t think I don’t know. The Headmaster told me everything after I poured my heart out to him. You turned the time-turner before you saw me, you didn’t even think about me – you just did it! Do you have any idea what it was like having to explain everything that had happened to Professor Wang or learning that you’d returned to your own time without even saying goodbye or to have <em>to see you three years later as a child who had no clue who I was?!”</em></p><p>Tears beaded down Arthur’s cheeks and he panted for mouthfuls of air.</p><p>“You humiliated me.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Arthur, I am. I didn’t turn the time-turner without thinking about you; I turned it wishing it wouldn’t work. I just wanted to prove that it didn’t so I could go back to you!”</p><p>“I don’t want to hear it, Alfred–”</p><p>“But you have to! You have to give me a chance. I want to be with you, Arthur. That’s what I wanted to tell you, I <em>ran </em>back to tell you but I didn’t make it.”</p><p>Arthur slouched, curling in on himself, looking defeated and <em>so very tired</em>. It was clear he had been waiting for this encounter for a long time and it wasn’t going how he wanted it to. The fight had left him.</p><p>“You know I’m an idiot, you know I can’t see things even when they’re right in front of my face. I wish I’d figured out how I felt about you sooner.” Alfred sighed. “I know it's only been ten minutes for me and nine years for you, but, whether you still like me or not, I want you to be happy. Tell me how I can make you happy.”</p><p>Arthur gazed at the floor, his tears collected at the tip of his chin. He didn’t speak.</p><p>“If it means not seeing me again, tell me. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what’ll make you happy.”</p><p>The Englishman bit down into his lip and visibly gathered himself, fluttering his eyelids to ward off the tears. Alfred wanted to hug him, to rock him back and forth until he forgot to cry. Arthur was shaking his head and Alfred didn’t understand.</p><p>“Arthur?”</p><p>“Don’t leave,” he whispered.</p><p>Gingerly, Alfred leant into Arthur, making his intentions clear. Arthur observed him with those crystalline eyes and his body strained like an arrow poised in its bow. He could have bolted, he could have ducked out of the way, he could have told Alfred to stop and Alfred would have stopped but he didn’t and so Alfred kissed him, careful and slow, guiding Arthur into reciprocating. And he did.</p><p>The kiss dissolved into desire, feverish and surging. Alfred took Arthur’s face in his hands and kissed him until they were smiling and couldn’t process oxygen fast enough.</p><p>Arthur exhaled, the current of air tickling Alfred’s lips.</p><p>“I didn’t want to forgive you,” Arthur huffed.</p><p>“You don’t have to, I don’t expect you to. I just need you to know the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”</p><p>“I wish you had come to me before using that sodding time-turner.”</p><p>“…will you still have me, Artie?”</p><p>“I’m your teacher, Alfred, this is forbidden. I’d lose my job and it would completely devastate my reputation.”</p><p>“You’ve waited nine years; can you wait seven more months? I know it’s a lot to ask and, believe me, I don’t want to wait – part of me wants to drop out of school – ”</p><p>“Don’t you dare, Alfred Jones,” Arthur admonished.</p><p>Alfred sifted his hand through Arthur’s hair and pressed his lips to the Englishman’s forehead. “Will you? Have me?”</p><p>“Of course I will, you prat.”</p><p>-/-</p><p>Yao’s smile was wide and decadent as he broke the seal of the invitation he’d received in the post.</p><p>
  <em>You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alfred F. Jones</em>
</p><p>
  <em>and</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Arthur Kirkland</em>
</p><p>
  <em>On Saturday, 1<sup>st</sup> December 2020</em>
</p><p>Finishing the last of his tea, Yao glanced at the time-turner pendant from his neck. Time was fickle, indeed, but it certainly had a sense of humour.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, and comments everyone! I know this has already been posted before but it's always really pleasant to receive kindness for one of my works!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is an oldie. Thank you to flybynight for beta-ing this for me! Written for USUK Sweethearts Week.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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